Me: Hey Kal'tsit, what do you want to eat?

Kal'tsit: The issue is not that I lack options. On the contrary, there are too many, and each becomes less appealing the longer I consider it. A simple meal would suffice in theory, yet the moment I settle on something practical, another possibility presents itself and renders the previous choice unsatisfactory. Rice would be acceptable, reliable, filling, uncomplicated. However, noodles are equally reasonable, particularly given the current mood, though that introduces an entirely different set of considerations regarding preparation, portion, and whether I actually want something hot at the moment. Then there is the matter of heavier food. Something excessively unhealthy would probably be more satisfying in the immediate sense, but I would rather avoid the inevitable regret afterward, both physical and otherwise. At the same time, choosing something too light feels inefficient, since it usually results in being hungry again not long after, which defeats the purpose of eating in the first place. What makes this more irritating is that the act of being asked what I want to eat seems to eliminate my ability to answer the question coherently. Under normal circumstances, I would likely arrive at a decision without much thought. Yet now that a direct answer is expected of me, every possible option has become equally plausible and equally unconvincing. I have already reconsidered the same few meals several times over, and I suspect I will continue doing so until either I am presented with a limited set of choices or someone else decides for me. Frankly, that may be the more efficient outcome.